The Stone Remembers
by Katamabob
Summary: A castle in ruins, wreathed in history and memories. So why does no one remember it? One-shot.


**The Stone Remembers**

A ruined castle stood before him, an old sign at eye-level declaring it 'DANGEROUS – UNSTABLE'.

The surrounding countryside was beautiful, wild. The ruins seemed remarkably hard to notice, despite their size, hinting at long-lost grandeur. The man however, hiking with his wife of ten years, felt himself almost being drawn towards it, like magic. When his wife had asked him what he was looking at, he had pointed. Her eyesight had always been good, so he was surprised when he'd had to repeatedly point it out to her.

She hadn't wanted to, but he insisted they go closer – he had no idea why, but his heart began beating faster as they neared it, and his impulses grew.

A lake lay to the south of the castle, and there was a large forest close by. The castle was on a hill, a perfect tactical position, and the man wondered why he had never heard a mention, not even the slightest whisper, that this place might exist. He had checked travel guides and the internet before coming to Scotland, and he thought he new all the best historical spots.

What was this place?

"John!" called his wife behind him, hurrying to catch up to where he stood, staring at the sign. "What are we doing here? It's just an old ruin, and I'm getting hungry."

He looked around at her. She loved historical monuments, particularly ruins. And they had just eaten. But she had no reason to lie, did she? Did she know something about this castle?

"I have a sandwich left over from lunch," he told her. "Do you want that?"

"Not really," she said, looking puzzled for some reason. She seemed to pause for a long moment before asking, "Why are we here again?"

He frowned. Something was wrong.

"It looks unstable," his wife said, looking at the ruins as though she'd just noticed them. "I don't want to go in there."

She was an adventurous person, a reckless person – he was the cautious one.

"Are you feeling all right?" he asked her.

"Of course," she said, and then frowned and rubbed her head. "Actually, I feel a little... strange. I just have a feeling that we shouldn't be here – is that weird?"

She wasn't superstitious.

"Well, I want to go in," he said. "You can wait here, all right?"

She nodded, looking confused, and seemed to drift off towards the road. He decided that he'd take her to see a doctor later, just in case. She was probably just tired.

John stepped up to the large front door and tried to shift it. Despite its rotting wood and crumbling doorway, it held fast and appeared immovable. He tried to gain entrance without much success for five more minutes before the door creaked open, as though it had never presented any difficulty. He stepped inside.

* * *

He heard chatter, and laughter, and thought he saw a child run by in long black robes – before reality asserted itself, revealing a large and empty hallway, it's only light coming from small, high windows. Dust and debris was everywhere, but John could see an old rug, almost blending with the stone, choked with dust as it was. The colour had long since faded, and it showed signs of wear, as though a few feet had walked on it every day for generations – or thousands of feet for just fifteen years.

He knew he should leave. This place wasn't safe, the remnants of stone on the floor, and holes on the ceiling, told him that much even without the warning sign. But something compelled him to go onwards, and he complied, if only to know why he wanted to.

The next room was even larger, and had broken wood scattered across it. He could see what remained of a table. This room had large windows, windows that were dirty, now. But as he stared around at the sad scene, he once again had a moment of... insight? Insanity? He didn't know.

Candlelight, all around. Four tables, lined with golden plates full of food. Windows showing a night sky, and a roof full of stars. Children in black robes, a dirty hat, adults at the front. Greens, reds, blues and yellows.

It was gone again, leaving only dust.

He looked in room upon room, and images flashed and spun in his mind. Children laughing, crying, studying, talking. Bright lights flashing between people. A thousand red-headed children. Less children with black hair, or brown, or blond. Eleven year olds, seventeen year olds. Adults. Bubbling cauldrons, a greasy haired man with a scowl. A man with flowing white hair.

When he finished in the castle, John went over to the lake, and peered into its depths. He found no relief there. He could here – on the very edge of hearing, not even really a sound – a boy screaming, could see a giant squid. The flat ground near by had a crowd, cheering, and people flying through the air on... broomsticks?

* * *

John sat down on the steps outside when he was done. What was it about this place? What was happening to him?

He could see his wife sitting by the side of the road in the distance. It really wasn't like her to stay back like that.

"It's the muggle repelling charms."

He nearly jumped out of his skin when the conversational voice came from behind him, and was still in shock when a girl, maybe sixteen years of age, sat down on the step to his right.

"What's a muggle repelling charm?" he asked, dazed.

"They're charms, to repel muggles."

"Oh," he said, stupidly. Then, "What's a muggle? And how do you repel them?"

"With charms."

There was silence for a moment, and he decided that he wasn't dealing with someone entirely sane. He decided to forget about her comment.

"What is this place?" he asked her instead, glancing back at the ruin.

"Hogwarts."

"And what is that?"

"It was a school. Not any more, but it was..."

He nodded, doubtful of the truth behind this. It was a castle, not a manor. But, he thought to himself, why did he keep seeing children everywhere, real or not? Somehow, he knew that it had certainly been a school.

"It was much grander, before," the girl went on, her lanky hair lifted off her shoulders by a breeze. "Before the war."

"Which war?" He couldn't imagine this place been grand any time within the last three hundred years, but when she said 'the war' it had importance attached – this probably wasn't an inter-family war of rivalry. And he could only think of huge wars that Britain had been involved in...

She just looked at him, sadly. "The one last summer."

He had no idea how to reply to that appropriately, so he just said, "Ah, right. That one. When was the school last open?"

"Just before the war. Many students were injured, or killed. Colin Creevey died, he was in my year."

The girl had presumably had some traumatic event in her past, probably an accident involving this Colin. She had probably made up a different version of events in her head.

"Hogwarts was a great school..." she continued wistfully. "They're hoping to re-open it next year, when everything calms back down, and the Ministry is sorted out properly. But when I see it like this...

"The castle seems sadder," she said. "It's remembering better times, I think. I imagine that would be odd, to a muggle. It remembers children, and laughter. It remembers teachers, and spells, and Quidditch." She giggled suddenly. "It seems to remember the Weasleys, anyway. I suppose they've been here generations, a constant. And always the same..."

He nodded, completely out of his depth. But then she turned to him.

"The muggle repelling charms should have made you go away like your wife. I wonder why they didn't."

He looked at her in bafflement. She was talking about muggles again, and charms. Were he and his wife muggles? What were they? A new derogatory word for an Englishman?

"Did you ever make things happen, John?" she asked him suddenly. "Things you couldn't explain, when you were scared, or angry?"

"I don't think so..." he replied nervously. "When I was about three I'm told I wanted to be a magician, but other than that..."

The girl just nodded, as though this explained a lot. "What about your parents? Anything special about them?"

Why was he being asked this? Why was he _answering_?

"I didn't know my parents, actually," he replied automatically.

"Of course," she said. Then she stood up. "I need to go. I suspect you'll know more about Hogwarts once your boy is eleven. When that happens, be sure to ask about me."

"And who are you?"

"My name's Luna."

She left then, suddenly. He began to wonder if he'd imagined her. How had she known that he had a son? And how had she known his own _name_?

He was no longer sure if he'd met a mad person or if he _was_ one.

He soon rejoined his wife and they left. Any time after that, if he mentioned the castle to her, she would ask 'What castle?'

It always puzzled him, especially when odd things began to happen around his son. And eight years later, a letter arrived in the post.

They were all to enter a world full of owls and potions and magic and wizards and witches, yet Luna Lovegood was still an oddity to top all others.

Hogwarts endured, and it's memories were absorbed and renewed when children came back. After a thousand years full of magic and life, the stone remembers.

* * *

**A/N**: Hope you liked it, it was written on a whim. No idea why, just popped into my head. Maybe it's a Wizard conspiracy O_o

Please review!

Belated Disclaimer: Not Mine.


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